


Who knows the names

by WahlBuilder



Series: 30 days of rarepairs [17]
Category: Horus Heresy - Various Authors
Genre: Bickering, Flirting, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 09:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15905109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder
Summary: A scene from the better, sunnier days of the Crusader Host.





	Who knows the names

**Author's Note:**

> With implied Tagore/Subha/Asubha.

The Host is a funny thing. Some of them are better at adapting to being around cousins so different from them than others. Magnus’s son keeps mostly to himself and to the Word Bearer, which is not surprising. The World Eaters trio have taken it upon themselves to strengthen the bonds between others—which was far from expected. But learning more of their culture, of what they do, Kiron understands that it is entirely natural for the World Eaters to undertake such a feat. With various results.

‘Argie, you asleep?’

He winces from a poke to his shoulder and cracks open one eye to be greeted by the lopsided grin of one of the twins—the grin that usually spells all kinds of mischief. The last mischief was ‘Let’s try to steal the plumage off the helm of a Custodian on-duty’. Careful strategising and scouting revealed that they needed a psyker—and, to Kiron’s astonishment, the aloof Prosperian scholar agreed. Not without a roll of his eyes, though. The plumage was successfully cut off the helm, and Constantin scolded them and praised their teamwork in equal measure. They brought Custodian Aldaria a few jugs of mjod as an apology, and she promised to consider not kicking them into the next week.

‘Argie.’ Poke. ‘Argie?’

He moves away, avoiding the next jab, and rubs his shoulder, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘No, Subha, I’m not asleep.’

‘Oh, you are just _meditating_ , my apologies,’ the World Eater says with a half-bow, encumbered somewhat by the fact that they are seated on a bench. ‘And I’m Asubha.’

Kiron huffs. ‘No, you are not.’

The World Eater raises his brows. ‘How would you tell?’

‘You smell of Tagore, and Asubha has been wrestling with others since the morning.’

He smiles, watching dark colour suffuse the twin’s neck. Subha nudges him with his shoulder, and Kiron laughs, keeping his balance and his place on the bench.

Subha crosses his arms on his chest with a huff. ‘Why don’t you join us in the wrestling?’

Kiron runs a hand through his hair. ‘You are entertaining yourself well enough as it is, even without me.’ In fact, he’s been considering the idea of messing around with someone. The bench is overlooking a small clearing surrounded by low trees. They have claimed the clearing, unofficially, and he’s been watching Gythua train since noon.

He likes the tall Death Guard. He is quiet, but not distant like Atharva. Kiron tells himself he’s been watching Gythua because he wants to learn his fighting style—and not because Gythua has a handsome back, his paleness only enhanced by a short brown vest he’s wearing.

Subha bumps his shoulder against Kiron’s, pulling him out of his thoughts. ‘Oh, cousin, you are no fun. What do you do in your Legion, then? What is your talent? Painting? Dancing? You have that wonderful graceful—’

Kiron smiles. ‘I sing.’

The light in the World Eater’s eyes is… flattering. He grabs Kiron’s hand. ‘Would you sing for us? We’ll find the instruments or, or instrumental recordings…’

Kiron laughs, patting his hand. ‘All right. I’d be glad to.’ And he is glad to share his culture with others. ‘Now shoo!’

The World Eater snorts. ‘Why? Don’t like me interfering with your lovestruck gazing?’

It is Kiron’s turn to heat up. He looks away. ‘No, because what’s about to happen is not for you to witness.’

Subha—or maybe he is Asubha?—snorts again and pats his knee. ‘Good luck with that.’ He hops off the bench and jogs away, though throws over his shoulder, ‘Don’t forget about singing!’

Kiron waves him away.

He has no doubt that Gythua has heard all of their exchange. The bench is not very far away from the clearing. The Death Guard is continuing with his series of shadow fighting, though.

Kiron gets up then gets to Gythua. The tall Death Guard turns to him. He has dark eyes—they become only darker in times of pleasure, when the two of them are alone.

‘Not afraid to take on someone so much taller than you?’ Gythua asks. His voice is a low rumble.

Kiron has to tilt his head up to look into his eyes. ‘Height doesn’t matter when we are horizontal.’

Gythua smiles. ‘Indeed it doesn’t.’ And his eyes darken.

**Author's Note:**

> Gythua and Kiron are absolutely married. Just ask McNeill.


End file.
